


Buried but not forgotten

by skellygay



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canonical Character Death, No Dialogue, Other, Spoilers for episode 111, but caleb is a walking guilt complex, it's caleb's internal thoughts, no beta we die like men, no detailed description of death or canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:34:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26687497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellygay/pseuds/skellygay
Summary: He didn’t realise until it was too late. Correction, the wizard had realised something was there in Hupperdook, what it was he didn’t know, but it terrified him.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Buried but not forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> The Widomauk discord gave me major inspiration. This is my first posted fic in over 5 years and first for this fandom please be kind and I'm sorry it's an angst fest.

He didn’t realise until it was too late. Correction, the wizard had realised something was there in Hupperdook, what it was he didn’t know, but it terrified him. The tiefling had looked at the sky with such unbridled awe as the fireworks lit it. A broken man like Caleb Widogast, a discarded tool of the Empire did not deserve the flutter in his gut from merely looking at the brightness of a being like Mollymauk Tealeaf as they bathed in the limited light of the pyrotechnics above. 

Leaving every place better than when he found it was not some overzealous brag from Mollymauk, he exuded such sheer joy and life that it was nearly impossible for it not to rub off on the people who had the pleasure of his company and leaving them better for it as promised. Nearly impossible, Mollymauk’s presence for Caleb most often reminded him that he did not deserve the crumbs of happiness and companionship he so selfishly coveted during his travels with The Mighty Nein. That he is living a lie, that he should still be rotting for as long as his feeble body held out in the sanatorium, but he’s too much of a coward to even give his victims that justice. Instead, he runs, he runs and hides among the common folk, he runs and hides among the garishness of The Mighty Nein, he runs and hides from happiness. He buries whatever these budding feelings towards Mollymauk might be. 

Then he buries Mollymauk.

As he writes a note with the slimmest hope a miracle can happen more than once Caleb reasons that anything that could have been between them, be it friendship or more, is moot at that point. His heart clenches, breath involuntarily stuttering as he brushes Mollymauk’s hair back, reasoning that when he wakes, he’ll want to look presentable, ignoring that he’ll be covered in the dirt of Glory Run Road, ignoring that the Raven Queen will not let a soul slip out of her grasp, not twice, ignoring that he just wanted to touch him one last time. Mollymauk is cold already as his knuckles graze the peacock feather on his cheek and he regrets the action instantly as his hand flinches back. The wizard adds it to the ever-growing list of actions he regrets and closes his eyes, willing the tiefling out of his thoughts. There are much more important things to focus on in the days to come than a dead man, no matter the endless possibilities his life could have taken with Mollymauk still in it, with him re-entering it. Beau pours out a drink for their fallen ally and Caleb pushes any thoughts about the tiefling from his mind and vows to keep it that way. 

Caleb’s mind has never been his ally, no matter his friend. 

He can’t help the minor wince as the firbolg, Caduceus calls him ‘Mister Caleb’ the first time. Once it happened a fourth time, he finally managed to steel himself to it, refusing to react externally, but it still brings the memory of a coat of six deities and nonsense symbols gently flapping in the snow where they left it.

On the occasions he drinks with the rest of The Mighty Nein his mind wanders. On the good days, Caleb sips his drink and catches himself with the smallest of soft smiles as he recalls a half-remembered kiss to his forehead and the feeling of sword calloused hands on his face. On the darker days, he feels Mollymauk’s blood on his hands, spiralling as he downs one tankard after another. Unable to stop as he focuses on what he could have done differently to avoid the extinction of the brightest star in the sky, how the grave should have been his. Caleb doesn’t sleep on the darker days. 

When he observes the crew of the Ball-Eater he can’t help but think that the tiefling would have enjoyed the pirate life, would have taken to it like a fish to water even. His thigh highs and the deep v of his shirt always did seem a bit too much for land-life to the wizard, not to mention the tattoos. He thinks about how Mollymauk would have been first in line for a tattoo from Orly, would have been honoured to be a practice canvas for Jester. Thinks about his coat swishing in the sea breeze as the tiefling swings from the rigging, laughing with glee with a Captain Tusktooth tattoo proudly on display. 

Caleb’s stomach twists painfully, chest tightening at the thought and proceeds to throw himself into the closest conversation. He refuses to people watch on the Ball-Eater again, but it doesn’t stop him from thinking of lavender skin blemished with scars and ink. 

During battles when Caleb is desperately clinging to life, in need of a buffer between himself and the enemy it hits him the worse that their friend is gone. An unbearable punch to the gut when he turns and like a fool expects the tiefling to be standing in front of him like he had done in previous frays. A scimitar in each hand, ready to take an attack like the wizard was worth protecting like he could possibly care for the broken man. Each time he sucks in a breath and steadies himself as his eyes fall on nothing and he’s reminded Molly already fell protecting him. He never gives himself time to linger on the gnawing ache in his heart as he readies his next attack. 

Planning the tower is hard sometimes, he works on it in the quiet of the night when his skin crawls with the need to be useful and productive. It’s a reason to live, to give The Mighty Nein the comfort and safety they deserve but his focus wavers, drifting from complex interior design to the morning they woke up to find Jester, Yasha, and Fjord missing. He knows deep in his soul that if he had just gotten stronger faster, learnt Leomund’s tiny hut quicker that they would have never been taken in the first place. Lorenzo’s people would have never been able to get into the dome, they could have prepared and faced them right there with their cleric by their side. Molly wouldn’t have died and Caleb would have been planning the most luxurious room for him instead of a guest room. Sometimes he entertains the hope and plans a room that wafts the scent of lavender when you open the door, a room teeming with silks, the Moonweaver’s symbol proudly on display, how Molly would hang his gaudy Platinum Dragon tapestry right next to it instead of the burial shroud it became. 

Guilt claws at Caleb’s throat and he shuts down the trail of thought instantly, The Mighty Nein would never had met Caduceus if Molly hadn’t died and he’s family now. It’s selfish to wish the tiefling had never died, they’ve known the firbolg much longer than they ever knew him after all. Caleb’s eyes are glassy as he decides it’s time to bed down for the night. 

When he finally casts Widogast’s Nascent Nein-Sided Tower the stained glass window in the library comes as a surprise even to himself but he plays it off as planned, his mind has never been his friend after all. 

He didn’t realise until it was too late when he is elbow deep in waterlogged mug and staring into an empty grave. He’s in the right place, Caleb Widogast never forgets and he vividly remembers placing the lifeless body of one Mollymauk Tealeaf in this ground, he even counted the steps from Glory Run Road to the gravesite. It’s the correct amount but no circus man, no beautiful bastard he had hopelessly wished to be reunited with since the moment Maximilian’s Earthen Grasp heaped the first pile of dirt onto the tiefling’s corpse. 

Caleb breaks.

Caleb breaks and he wishes he could think he had lost count of the amount of times it’s happened. The wizard’s arms buckle and he almost falls into the hole he and Veth have jointly dug with their bare hands when he is struck with the visceral cocktail of feelings from the realisation Molly is gone for good. He wants to vomit, scream and cry but he can’t, it would draw attention and the Nein cannot see him like this, so broken over someone he barely knew. Their worry would merely draw their attention away from Yasha, Yasha is the one who needs the emotional support right now she knew him longest. So, he silently shakes in the ditch as the rain drenches him to the bone hiding any tears that defies his weak will and slip down his cheeks. 

This was not how it was supposed to go, not what he had planned. They were finally strong enough now and they had a reason to once more come to his grave. Gods above this was supposed to be a reunion, their patchwork family whole once more. They would hug and the tiefling would call him ‘Mister Caleb’ once more and the wizard wouldn’t have been able to keep the smile off his face as he would greet him with ‘Mister Mollymauk’ in return. He wouldn’t take him for granted this time, he wouldn’t shy away from the life that is Mollymauk Tealeaf and his cheek would be warm as Caleb’s knuckles grazed the feather of his peacock tattoo on his cheek. 

He lets out the most pitifully broken whine, this was not what he had planned by himself on the loneliest of nights. The wizard curses himself for the mistake of ever thinking he could ever deserve happiness, that he could ever have love. 

Jester interrupts his inner turmoil with the announcement of a successful scrying, apparently, miracles can happen twice. Only to doom him all over again by the time she has finished her sentence.

It’s not him. It can’t be him. Molly would never abandon them, but it’s still a chance to get him back, it’s a chance and Caleb is holding onto it like a lifeline as he stands up on trembling legs. Molly died saving him and he will do the same if he has to and return the favour. He’ll die for Molly because the tiefling deserves to live, he’ll die for him because he loves him.


End file.
